


tonight, we will be

by lilibug



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Basically, Edgeplay, F/M, Jughead is a little shit, Mild Breathplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, also gratitious usage of the word cunt, and Betty just wants to come, oh hi, s4e2: fast times at riverdale high, so there's smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 19:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21151349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: Savor(verb): to enjoy something completely.A 4x02 extended moment.





	tonight, we will be

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, [@bettycooper](https://bettycooper.tumblr.com) is just a sparkling gem of incomparable light that is a gift to the world. She made this readable for y'all by being a most excellent beta.
> 
> This is for [@bugheadsjetty](https://bugheadsjetty.tumblr.com), who inspired a fic with her thoughts on this couch scene and I blame you entirely for this result.
> 
> [@theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com) made this beautiful header for me! Love her like I do, please.

_ _

_Savor each moment. You never know when you'll recount this as one of your favorite pages of nostalgia. Let the vivid images look fresh and authentic, then. _

_ — Prabha Prakash_

* * *

Betty has every intention of savoring the night prior to the start of their senior year before the words even leave her mouth. 

It starts with the champagne, crisp on her tongue and bubbling all the way down her throat. It makes her feel giddy, light. She doesn’t have to look at the bottle to know it’s expensive, and normally, she would feel guilty about drinking something like this—but not tonight. 

She wraps an arm around Jughead, leaning into the curve of his shoulder as his hand settles low on her hip. The smile that turns her lips up is coy as she pecks his cheek before turning back to Archie and Veronica. If she wiggles her ass against the cradle of his pelvis, she only hopes it isn’t obvious to their hosts. 

The fingers digging into her hip and the huff of breath over the slope of her neck tell her that Jughead got her hint, at least. 

Her fingers trace along the hem of his collar, nails barely scratching against his skin, just feeling the raised hairs along his neck. He leans into her touch, arm pulling her tighter against him as she shifts in his lap with the subtle roll of his hips. She bites her lip and hopes the color in her cheeks can be blamed on the alcohol. 

Veronica pours them each a second glass, and it tastes even better than the first, the empty bottle joining the remains of their hors d'oeuvres. 

“Isn’t it crazy... to think that in nine months, life as we know it will be over.” It sounds so finite from Veronica’s lips. “No more high school—”

“No more Blue and Gold,” Betty sighs, finding it hard to imagine her days without the quaint office where she’s spent so much of her high school career. Though, she might miss the ugly, yet undoubtedly comfortable, couch the most. It holds a lot of memories within its worn, threadbare cushions. She feels like pouting, so she changes the line of thought. “No more heart-to-hearts at the lockers.” 

“Oh, B, don’t be sad.” Though a smile blooms over Veronica’s features, she tightens her hand over Archie’s thigh, and her chin wavers just a little. 

Betty gives a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t help but think—life goes by so fast, and none of us are good at stopping to savor it.” The words ruffle the collection of bubbles in her chest, and she has to brush away impending thoughts of the future. Jughead squeezes her, heat from his palm searing through her skirt, and suddenly, all she can think about is his hands. And she wants them _ everywhere_. Turning into him even more, warmth settles low in her belly as she catalogues every point at which they’re pressed together until she can’t think straight anymore. “But tonight, we will be.” 

Jughead makes a low noise of affirmation in his throat, attention falling to her lips. 

She feels a surge of want roar to life, her fingers darting out to hook along the front of his shirt, before grabbing a fistful as she tilts her head down. Their lips connect in a bruising kiss, all pressure as they come together with such swiftness it feels like time freezes around them. Her lips buzz with the champagne she can taste on his tongue as he licks the seam of her lips. 

Yanking on his shirt, Betty pulls him forward as she leans back. They chase each other, his hand sliding from her knee up her thigh until his fingers skim under the edge of her skirt. Her heart threatens to burst from her chest, craving Jughead’s touch like it’s water and she hasn’t had a drop to drink in days. Her hand smooths up to cup his jaw, fingers sliding into his hair as she bears down in his lap, daring for more. 

His mouth parts, and she tugs his lower lip between her teeth, grinning as she falls into his chest. Through the layers of their clothes, she can feel his cock growing hard against her thigh, and her knees clench tightly together as his hand wanders up her back, fingers climbing beneath her shirt. 

It’s only when she hears the _ click-clack _ of Veronica’s heels that she draws away to glance up at their friends’ retreating backs. She wets her lips, tongue flicking out to draw a line against the corner of Jughead’s mouth, catching on his smirk. 

“Did you like that?” 

“Like what?” Head tilting sharply to the side, her hand slides down to circle his wrist until she can feel the jump of his pulse beneath her fingers. 

His low chuckle grates on her nerves in the best way, like coals over a fire—stoking heat. 

“Putting on a show.” 

Betty grins, dragging his hand between her legs as her knees part. “Granted, I am a good actress but—” she pulls until his hand settles against her cunt, lace damp as she holds them to the side. “This is all for you.” 

He barely brushes his fingers over her folds, and her clit throbs in response, desire and want and _ need _ flushing down her chest as she pushes up against his hand. His fingers spread her open, gathering the slick of her arousal in slow sweeps. She whimpers as his thumb presses down on the bundle of nerves, her legs clamping around his hand as she clings to his arm. Shaking with the need for more—for him to move his fucking hand—she says as much with a shuddering growl. 

Jughead clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and she watches with fluttering eyelashes as he shakes his head. “I thought you wanted to _ savor _ this?” 

Oh, she’s in trouble now. 

His fingers drag across her thigh, wet over her skin, and she bites her tongue as he hikes her leg up a little, palm sliding over the curve of her ass. His fingers twitch, almost drumming, and she _ giggles_. 

She’ll blame it on the champagne. 

“What I want”—Betty runs her tongue over her teeth, his eyes following the movement—“is for you to fuck me on that couch.” 

His head tilts back, pupils dilating as he drinks her in, and she runs her finger down the front of his throat, over his Adam's apple, until she feels the bob of his swallow. Then, he's lifting her from his lap, hands tight on her waist, and they're tumbling over each other in a rush to stand, lips on each other again like they can't get enough. 

"I think that can be arranged," he murmurs against her lips, hands sliding up her waist and underneath the hem of her cropped shirt. 

She lifts her elbows and crosses her arms, grabbing just as Jughead lifts, and they somehow manage to pull the fabric over her head in one smooth motion. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as he tosses it aside, eyes dropping down from her lips, to her neck, and her chest. They settle on the swell of her breasts, and his thumb slips underneath the band of her bra, snapping it against her skin hard enough for her to feel its sting all the way down her spine. 

"This new?" 

She nods, one hand tucking under the hem of his shirt and laying flat against the plane of his stomach, the other plucking the beanie from his head to toss it to the floor. "Cost me an arm and a leg." 

"It's blue." 

Her eyebrows rise, and she glances down, just to double check. "Yeah?" 

"I like it," he shrugs, "but darker is better." 

"Of course you'd say that. It's what your whole wardrobe consists of." 

He looks down before grabbing the back of his collar, yanking the shirt over his head in a flex of his bicep, and then, he's on her again, both hands cupping her face and jaw. Her own fly up to circle around his forearms, holding on as she tilts her head back into his hold. His palms are warm, fingers sliding down her neck inch by inch as he coaxes her lips against his own; his movements intrepid, stealing all her breath. 

His thumbs brush the underside of her breasts, scratching against the lace embroidery before they flatten against the dip in her waist, and he's turning her around. 

She spins in a slow circle on her heel and takes one step back as he saddles up behind her, the heat of him so close as his chest barely skims her back. Her hands drop from his arms in the shuffle, and before her eyes can even flutter open, he's already working on the buttons of her skirt. 

He murmurs against the crown of her head, "It's not just _ that_." 

Leaning back against him, Betty watches as he fiddles with each button down the row, tortuously slow. She wishes he'd just rip it off her, but she supposes this _ is _ one of her favorite skirts. 

"I like knowing that underneath all the pastels and cardigans, there's something darker. Sinful. Just for me." 

She hums as the last button pops open, skirt dropping from her hips, and she kicks it out of the way. One of Jughead's hands flattens over her stomach, fingers barely dipping beneath the band of her underwear, the same matching blue. Her head tilts to the side as he sweeps the hair away from her shoulder, his lips feathering against her neck. 

"I guess I'll have to make another trip to the mall." 

His lips trail up the length of her neck until his breath is hot on her ear and desire burns a path through every vein in her body. "I wouldn't go that far. I like you in nothing even better, you know." 

"Jug," she groans, hand circling around the wrist against her belly and pushing at him. "Then get me out of these." 

“That defeats the purpose of you buying them.” 

“Why?” Betty bristles.

He turns her back around, hands lingering at her waist before withdrawing to unbutton and unzip the fly of his pants. His eyes are blown wide, dark and intense, as they sweep over her in slow-motion. “You’re a masterpiece—an artwork I could admire forever—and I want to savor every variation.” 

She feels vulnerable under the spotlight of his gaze, her pulse ticking up until it roars in her ears like the beat of a drum. He backs her up, chasing her steps until her knees hit the couch and they’re standing chest to chest. Her fingers tremble as they come up to tug on the waist of his pants, pushing them over his hips. Jughead steps out of them, and then he’s guiding her to lay down on the couch. 

They fold themselves together, her knees parting as he settles overtop of her to press his hips against hers in a way which has her choking on her tongue. 

Her head knocks back, spine arching up as his lips find the divot of her throat. “You think you’re so smooth,” Betty swallows, and it burns all the way down. “So show me just how much you admire me.” 

His fingers thread through her hair, nails scratching along her scalp, until he’s cradling the top of her head, and she feels like mewling. Her knee hikes along his waist, body shifting closer as her hips roll up and up. Lips climb her throat and jaw, and she revels in the sensation. Her breath turns stilted, verging on a pant as his hand smoothes down the front of her underwear to pull them to the side. 

Jughead sinks two fingers into her slick heat, her mouth falling open on a moan of his name. He draws her into a kiss, and it feels like a part of her soul leaves her body as his fingers crook up.

“My pleasure.” 

******

It's a night of dreamless sleep. 

Nightmares plague her more often than not, so when she can catch such a break, it's always a night to cherish. Though it's not their bed, the couch is surprisingly comfortable given its elegant stature. Plus, it always helps to have Jughead's arms wrapped so securely around her. 

There's a chill in the air, and he's warm at her back. Betty can feel the heat of his bare skin through the threadbare fabric of his shirt she'd thrown on just before lying down to sleep. At some point, one of them had kicked the blanket away, and she reaches an arm down to fish around for it at their feet. 

The arm around her waist tightens _ just so_, trapping her in place as lips descend upon the slope of her exposed neck. 

Desire unfurls low in her belly like a flower blooming in the sun reaching blearily toward the sky. She presses her hips back against Jughead's pelvis, and his teeth scrape over the skin below her ear as his chest rumbles with a groan. 

"Stop wiggling like that." His breath is hot, raising goosebumps along her arms and neck. 

"Did I wake you?" 

"You woke part of me, that's for sure." He grinds against the curve of her ass for emphasis, as if she really needed any. 

He's hard against her, more than obvious as he pulls her flush against him. The arm underneath her side slips under the hem of her shirt. He curls it until his forearm is resting between her bare breasts, and his fingers lightly touch the edges of her collarbone. 

Betty sucks in a breath. "Your arm is going to fall asleep." 

"Don't worry. I don't plan on leaving it there the rest of the night." 

With only a little light from the moon, she can't even make out their outlines in the reflection of the TV, but she knows her eyes have drooped, pupils dilating further, teeth sinking into her lower lip as Jughead's fingers drift from her waist and make a slow trek down the length of her thigh. 

His thumb rubs a circle into the side of her knee, right above where he has his own folded against her. 

She grabs a fistful of the blanket tucked around the couch cushions and revels in the delicate touch with a sigh. Her head is already swimming, bursting with color and thought as need echoes beneath her skin like a broken record. “Then what do you plan on doing?” 

The hand at her collarbone rises, the pads of his fingers tilting her jaw up and over her shoulder, so he can press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. The action is fleeting, her eyes fluttering open just as he pulls away. His hand lays against her throat, thumb brushing over her pulse, and she knows he can feel the hitch of her breath. 

“Do you think you can be quiet for me?” 

“You’re answering a question with a question—”

“Betty.” He nips at the lobe of her ear, fingers curving around the front of her thigh and sliding up, and _ up, _ until they’re brushing the front of her underwear—the ones they hadn’t quite removed earlier—still soaked with her arousal that never fully seemed to dissipate. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?” 

_ Insatiable. _

She bites her lip. “Yes.” 

“Well, then you have to be quiet. Don’t want to wake Archie and Veronica, do you?” 

“I’m not making any noise.” 

Jughead chuckles, fingers sliding beneath the waist of her underwear as his knee wedges between her legs to part them. His hand is hot on her cunt, fingers gliding up and down her slit before rubbing over her clit with a rough swipe of his thumb. “You will be.” 

Her chest heaves as pressure builds low in her belly, her skin heating, and all traces of being cold are far, far gone. 

“What happens if I’m not… quiet?” Betty asks on a squeak, his fingers parting her folds and slicking up and over her clit until she’s sopping wet and can _ hear _every movement. His hips roll against her ass, and she can feel the twitch of his cock as he lets out a slow breath that ruffles her hair. 

“Feeling rebellious today, are we? Where’s my good girl at?” 

His hand tightens around her throat, and she reaches beneath the collar of the borrowed shirt to wrap her fingers around his wrist to have something to hold on to. Her thighs are already trembling as she hooks her ankle over the back of his calf, legs spreading wider. 

“Not here. Good girls don’t fuck their boyfriends in their best friend’s living room when they could walk in any second.” 

Jughead’s wrist flexes, stretching against the band of delicate lace before circling her heat, two fingers sliding in with a slick sound which makes her throat go dry. 

“I see you're really taking the concept of savoring every opportunity to heart.” 

She chases his fingers, her stomach clenching and tightening as need spills up and over her lips, dizzy with it. “Shut up,” she pants, tucking her head into her shoulder and sucking a breath in as he crooks his fingers in just the way she likes. “You started this.”

His breath blows hotly across her ear in a chuckle, and she fights a shiver, eyes squeezing shut. “i love that you're already wet for my cock.” 

“_Still,_” Betty grumbles, melting back against his chest as he fucks her with lazy pumps of his wrist, a torturous rhythm. “Fell asleep with my pussy still soaked with your come.” 

“It’s a good thing we put a sheet down.” 

“Jughead,” she groans, clawing at the hand around her throat and pushing at the one between her legs. “I need more.” 

He relents, fingers curling and rubbing the deliciously sensitive spot near her cervix that has her legs clenching around his hand, her mouth dropping open when he slides his thumb right over her clit. Relief hangs in the balance, and she feels it in the base of her throat as well as her core. 

Then, his hand around her throat tightens, fingers pressing in ever so lightly against the pulse in her neck, and her world narrows to a hazy focus. She feels with every fiber of her being as he takes and takes and_ takes_. His thumb glides in tight circles, rubbing and tapping, and the rhythm is so off kilter that she’s panting and writhing against his chest with the unpredictability. 

If she tilts her hips just enough... If his thumb presses just a little harder… 

Jughead withdraws his hand from her cunt, fingers sliding up through her folds and across her throbbing clit with slow passes. 

It’s enough to make her want to scream. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutts, fingers at her throat squeezing incrementally. 

She takes a slow breath in through her nose, mouth clamping shut and teeth biting into her tongue. 

“You’re breaking the rules, Betty. Not that I don’t enjoy all those pretty sounds you’ve been making, but I said, ‘_quiet_.’”

Jughead’s hand on her throat caresses the tender skin with a gentle swipe of his thumb where he’d sucked a bruise just a few hours before. Her spine arches, hips wiggling toward his fingers. He circles the bundle of nerves with such slowness that a whine escapes her lips before she can even think. “What are you gonna do about it?”

He hums, chest rumbling at her back as he dips his fingers down to spread her arousal between his fingers, slicking up and over her clit again. It’s almost enough to have her teetering the line again, her core burning like the stubborn ash of a cigarette which won’t fall. 

“I have a few ideas.” 

One of them involves driving her insane, she’s sure of it. The word of the evening echoes in the back of her mind, and it sounds suspiciously like laughter now. 

“But”—he drawls, lips hovering at her ear—“I’m getting too impatient for any of that right now. I want to fill your pretty pussy with my cock again, so we’ll go with something simple.” 

Breathing in a careful, measured breath through her nose, Betty’s eyes flutter as his hand on her throat twists, and his grip readjusts, fingers drumming along her neck. Her fingers tighten around his wrist, holding onto him like a crutch as blood pounds in her ears, her hips bucking up against him. He circles her clit a few more times, fingers ghosting over the sensitive nerves until her back arches, and her ass pushes back against the hard line of his cock. 

“That’s it,” Jughead murmurs, and it sounds so much like praise that she flushes all the way down to her chest, eyes feeling droopy with the glow of it. 

She’s getting desperate. 

“Can you reach back for me?” 

Letting go of the couch, she reaches underneath his arm, hand sliding between them to brush her fingers over the front of his boxers. He thrusts up against her fingers, and she bites down a smile before slipping underneath his waistband. Wrapping a hand around him, she struggles to do much else than twist her wrist and give a couple of short pumps. 

“Now?” 

Jughead nods against the crown of her head, hips following her hand as she pulls him free of the fabric. They wrestle with each other, hands and arms and legs, as they shift together to pull her hips up at a tighter angle, and his cock brushes between her legs. Her knee hikes higher over his leg as she pulls on the side of her underwear, so he can rut up against her bare, sweat stricken skin. 

Removing his hand from her underwear has her mourning the loss with a sad sigh, but it quickly gets rectified as he works his hips up, his cock nudging through the folds of her cunt. Betty tilts back, spine arching, and he slides into her in a slow thrust. 

Her mouth drops open on a moan, and then his hand isn’t just over her mouth—his fingers are gliding over her tongue, and she can taste herself. Her core tightens as the sensation of _ him _ fills her so completely that a whimper filters out around his fingers. 

“Fuck. I love taking you this way.” Jughead’s breath is a pant in her ear, just as affected, as he stills against her back. 

They rock with gentle motions against each other, his cock stretching her to perfection. It burns, wonderfully so, and she feels the precipice of her orgasm approaching. Her chest heaves, nipples taut, entire body aching with pins and needles. Tears sting at the corner of her eyes, and she shifts with that itching, wanton need for more. To let go. 

She sucks at his fingers, one hand grabbing hold of his hip behind her as an anchor while grinding back against him. Everything’s lost on her tongue, but she knows actions speak louder than words. 

“So hot and tight,” he mumbles into her hair, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in with a heavy thrust. “I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of you, baby”—he groans when her cunt clenches around him—“but I’m not opposed to trying.” 

Betty moans her appreciation around his fingers, bobbing her head on them. 

“What’s that?” His nose nuzzles into her hair, teeth scraping the shell of her ear. “You want me to slow down, so you can _ savor _ this?” 

Her eyes widen, fingers digging into his hip until he’s hissing, his hips stuttering up in a broken rhythm. 

_ What a little shit_. She contemplates biting down on his fingers, but that might bring more punishment than she’s prepared for. So, she pulls on his hip, working him against her as she pushes back on his cock. 

His grin is audible. “Oh, you want _ more_.” He snaps his hips up, cock hitting her at just the right angle, and she chokes on his fingers. The hand on her throat closes in, thumb brushing the front of her throat and pressing down gently. 

Betty’s not sure if it’s the brutal pace, his hand on her throat, the fingers in her mouth, or the soft growl of her name under his breath, but the pressure in her core tightens until her arousal is dripping down her thighs. The sound of their coupling is so daringly loud in her ear, but it only heightens the sensation further. So much so that she’s trembling, release within reach of her fingers as she refrain from moving a hand to her clit. A pathetic sound whittles from around Jughead’s fingers in her mouth

“Are you going to come on my cock, baby?” 

She nods, panting around his fingers. 

“You need my help?” he asks, sounding almost as breathless as her. 

Yanking on his wrist, he doesn’t resist and lets his fingers slide from her mouth as she pushes his hand down to her cunt. “Please,” she whispers, biting into her cheek and wiggling her head into the cushion as she clings to any semblance of reality. 

His fingers are almost _ too _ slippery over her clit, but she moans all the same, rocking up and back to catch both his fingers and cock. She throbs, core curling _ tight tight tight _ until her vision turns spotty. She realizes that Jughead’s telling her to breathe, and his breath at her ear sends tingles all the way to the base of her spine. Suddenly, she feels like a ball of yarn beginning to unravel. 

Pleasure, which feels like it might never end, builds slowly in her belly as his fingers rub her clit, and he fucks up into her. Her cunt clenches around him, and she grabs at his arms and clings as she tenses up, back arching and toes curling into the back of his calf. 

Her mouth snaps open, but she’s quiet as her mind empties for a moment. Bliss and nothingness. It feels incredible to be free from all of her worries for even one minute. 

Then, she realizes that Jughead’s trembling beneath her hold, thrusts erratic, and rough, and somehow still holding back. “Come inside me,” she gasps, swallowing down the taste of copper on her tongue. “Please, Juggie.” 

“Oh, I planned on it. Too messy otherwise.” 

_ Cheeky_, she shakes her head, not much fight left in her as she relaxes against him. They put a blanket down for a reason, she muses, but the thoughts get lost in the feel of him holding her down by her hips as he ruts up into her. 

His chest rumbles at her back, the gravelly sound of her name making her shiver as she clenches around his cock again for effect. He strokes her clit once more, pinching lightly, and she squirms, mewl falling from her lips. 

Then he stills, holding her tightly as he buries his head against her. She can feel the throb of his cock, the warmth, and his come filling her for the second time that night, and she sighs, completely content. 

They lay there for a moment, both catching their breath and touching each other with tender passes of fingers and the press of lips to available skin. 

Jughead pulls out of her, and she almost feels sad until his lips are at her ear again, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean you up this time.”

Betty squeals as he suddenly turns her onto her back and climbs overtop of her, forcing her knees up to hook over his shoulders as he settles between her thighs. He’s smirking and incorrigible as he hooks a thumb through her underwear to pull them farther to the side. He wets his lower lip before his tongue slides through her folds, and she grabs one fistful of the couch and another of his hair. 

“Jug,” she groans, head tilting and back arching up as his tongue laves over her sensitive clit. 

“_Quiet,_” he reminds her, eyes flashing darkly up at her. “Or else I’ll stuff these in your mouth this time,” he chastises with a quick snap of her underwear against the curve of her hip. 

The thought that accompanies his words does little to quell her mouth, and he makes good on both of his promises until they’ve spent themselves once more, falling back asleep in much the same position they started in. 

The next thing she hears is Veronica’s voice rousing them back awake, panic settling in her stomach as the clock ticks forward once more. 

Senior year has begun. 

_ fin _

**Author's Note:**

> Annnnnnd that's all she wrote. 
> 
> tumblr is [@lilibug--xx](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com)


End file.
